


This Likeness

by Tseecka



Series: DARP Kisses [9]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Kisses Meme, Mistaken Identity, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tseecka/pseuds/Tseecka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Violet escape the dull Kirkwall feast, and Alistair makes a mistake.</p><p>---</p><p>For a Tumblr RP Kissing Meme, Prompt: "Neck Kiss"</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Likeness

**Author's Note:**

> Violet Goddard belong to [Shink](http://starsandscimitars.tumblr.com).

It hadn’t taken much for Violet to entice Alistair away from the feasting hall, her raised eyebrow and exaggerated yawn making him grin around his fork. He had excused himself—for “just a moment”—from the table and let himself out into the hallway outside shortly after seeing her do the same, pocketing a couple of rolls smeared with sweet flower jam and a pair of drumsticks wrapped in a napkin. 

The food was tremendous, but the company was awful, and he was grateful for her diversion. If he had had to listen to the Seneschal drone on and on for a moment longer, he might have very well stabbed his own hand with a knife for an excuse to leave; as they met in an alcove, around the corner from the passage that wrapped around the feasting hall, he told her so. 

Since coming to Kirkwall and their chance meeting in Lowtown, Alistair had quickly come to think of Violet as a friend. She was seemingly uninfluenced by his own powerful position, and he found it refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t constantly hyper-aware of formalities and rites and the observance of every smattering of propriety. More than once, during their talks, he had found himself thinking that Lyna would have loved the woman. Easy and genuine in her affections, quick to laughter, she had a way of easing him out of his self-imposed shell, and his gradual shift in mood was noted by more than one person. 

Still, there had never been anything but friendship between them; nothing more desired on his part and nothing, that he was aware of, on hers. Instead, it was all easy, casual friendship, cracking jokes at the state of the world instead of at the expense of others, telling stories, having adventures that would have been more suited to children a third their age rather than grown adults. Adventures like stealing food from the feast tables, escaping the drudgery of their respective meal companions, and hiding in an alcove far too small for two grown adults to share their plunder. 

It was an hour or two later before anyone began looking for them, and he heard one of his men tentatively calling his name as she wandered the passageway. He and Violet shared a sigh and an eyeroll, and he stuffed the last of his roll into his mouth, chewing it hurriedly and swallowing before giving her a rueful smile and pulling her into an embrace. 

It may have been the wine, the alcohol settling into a body that had never been able to hold its liquor all too well; the heady feeling of shirking responsibility, of shared secrets (mild as they were); the sense of familiarity, of having been here before, that Alistair was constantly experiencing in Violet’s company. 

Whatever it was, Alistair rolled his head on Violet’s shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her neck, before he could have a conscious thought to stop himself. In the next moment, he was frozen in horror—at his forwardness, at his insolence, awash with guilt at what felt like a double betrayal. 

He pulled away and gave her an apologetic look, and squeezed out of the alcove without another word, head spinning. 


End file.
